


(Where Am I To Go) Now That I've Gone Too Far

by NeighborhoodCatGang



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is fully adult in this, Fluff, Hakoda is 44-45 ish, I guess that's just how experience gap reads in my head, Inexperienced Zuko, Look they're getting naughty thats the point, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Zuko is 20-21 ish, but no real d/s, pure self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeighborhoodCatGang/pseuds/NeighborhoodCatGang
Summary: Who hasn't had a summer fling with another head of state?
Relationships: Hakoda/Zuko (Avatar), Mai & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	(Where Am I To Go) Now That I've Gone Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because one day I decided that Fire Lord Daddy Issues would absolutely have latched on to Hot Dad Supreme and spent several years wanking about him and then, because heads of state, would have had to look him in the eye at some point and it would have been hilarious and excruciating.
> 
> And then the lizard brain chimed in and said "experience gaps are hot, just go ham." And, like a fool, I listened.
> 
> CW: Internalized shame about pleasure (though not homophobia), [let me know if I should add more]

Zuko watched Hakoda step off the ship feeling like just as much of an awestruck child as he had at his coronation. He’d met the man before then, of course - at the boiling rock. But they’d had more pressing concerns then, like not getting dropped in a boiling lake or eaten alive by Zuko’s murderous sister. At the coronation, though, he’d taken notice. All of the warriors in their elegant blue armor - so unlike the rigid, geometric fire nation uniforms - and their stern-faced chief. Hakoda had smiled at Zuko as he gripped his forearm and thanked him for his part in ending the hundred year war. Zuko didn’t remember now what he had said in return. He did remember, over the subsequent years, all the private moments he had snatched away from guards and advisors and servants, panting breaths muffled in his own sleeve, knees trembling beneath him as he imagined spilling into a very different hand - broad and dark and calloused from work instead of training. If he wasn’t careful now, he was going to embarrass himself in front of approximately everybody and worst of all, Chief Hakoda. He and Chief Arnook had been invited to Caldera City to discuss in person how best to proceed with the southern reconstruction project. Zuko would offer as much assistance as the two men were prepared to accept, in part because Sokka and Katara had been on his ass about it for nearly four years, but mostly because his family and his nation were directly responsible for the ruin of the southern water tribes. But he was beginning to realize just how difficult the coming months would be. And, just like every other difficulty in his life, he only had himself to blame for the semi now tightening his trousers. Whoever thought of the loose, flowing robes of the royal court had been inspired by Agni. They were his saving grace.

Zuko made it through introductions with only mild discomfort, then escorted his guests to the palace, where they would have a quick meeting in his study. It was a convenient place for an informal briefing, as he had banned his advisors from entering more than one at a time except for in emergencies. Without them ganging up on him, he could get a lot more done, including setting out guidelines for the following months’ reconstruction talks. And, vitally important to him now, it had a desk he could hide behind.

“Gentlemen. Thank you for meeting with me. I know that the bulk of the work will occur between my staff and yours, but I want to enter these discussions with clearly stated goals in mind. Chief Hakoda, this is the future of your people, what do you hope to achieve with this project?”

Hakoda looked at him intently for a second, as if rearranging something in his head. “It’s important to my community that we keep our identity as we come into our own, so to speak. I understand that this would be all but impossible without external aid, especially on a timeline measured in decades rather than centuries, but it’s vital that our contributions to the world are considered with just as much weight as the world’s contributions to us.”

“And you, Chief Arnook?”

“The northern water tribe has sequestered itself long enough, and there is no longer a need for it. My hope is that this project will build strong connections between the north and south.”

“Thank you. It is important to me personally for the fire nation to provide material support to the south, instead of token words and gestures. Justice cannot end with one man.”

Hakoda was giving him that look again. Arnook raised an eyebrow. “And what of your people, Lord Zuko? What matters to them?”

Zuko sighed. This was where things got complicated. “It is difficult to tell exactly how much my citizens understand of this situation. A century of lies and self-aggrandizement can’t be undone in four years. Maybe not even in fifty. But we value honor, and I know there is honor in setting things right. Even if it can’t be done, there is honor in trying.” As Zuko spoke, Hakoda leaned forward in his chair, his gaze becoming more intense until Zuko couldn’t avoid it anymore. He locked eyes with the southern chief, and suppressed a shiver as an unnerving feeling of having his thoughts laid bare crept up the back of his neck. He didn’t know. He _couldn’t_ know. It was only Zuko’s secret guilt that made him feel like he did. Horribly, the sudden fear did nothing to mitigate the situation under his desk. If anything, his racing pulse only made it worse.

“I hope you will forgive my trepidation, Lord Zuko.” Arnook’s voice broke the terrible, endless moment. “As you said, a century cannot be undone in four years. I have been wondering what kind of progress we would even be able to make with the fire nation.”

“I have every faith in the fire lord.” Hakoda answered before Zuko could, eyes still trained intently on his face “The past few years have brought a lot of change to the world. And with Avatar Aang’s blessing, no less. Surely you’ve noticed, Arnook?” The northern chief hmm-ed and looked at his hands clasped in his lap, a careful pantomime of neutrality. Zuko decided to call the meeting there. It would do for a start, and now they each knew where the others stood.

He rose carefully, mindful of the draping of his robes, and showed the men to their rooms. Hakoda’s was furthest from the study, because Zuko was not allowed a moment’s peace in his life. As evidenced by the chief clapping him on the shoulder and saying “It’s good to see you again, Zuko” with another of those heart-stopping smiles, before vanishing behind his door.

Zuko did not sleep well that night.

X

“You look awful,” Mai greeted him with her usual cheer. Officially, they were married. It was mostly a convenience arrangement for legal purposes. But as husband and wife they had breakfast together every morning they were both in the capitol, and helped each other dress for the day, a comforting little tradition for both of them. Unofficially, Mai had been dating Ty Lee for eighteen months, and looked happier than Zuko had ever seen her. So there was absolutely nothing behind his words when he shot back, “You’re one to talk.”

They moved through the familiar routine, tying ties, smoothing pleats, poking gently at each other’s scars, though it had been years since any of them hurt. She settled in front of the little breakfast table where silent servants had laid out an array of pastries while they were busy.

“It’s him isn’t it?”

Zuko poured the tea. He couldn’t regret telling her about his stupid teenage crush - and he still thought of it in those words even though he was no longer a teenager and definitely still had the crush - since it meant that he didn’t have to say it out loud right now. 

“It is.” He knelt across from her and smacked himself in the forehead, screwing up his face against his own stupidity. “Why did I let myself do this?? I knew this would happen and I just - Ugh!”

“Yeah you really boned yourself.” Mai smirked. “Literally.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Mai being his closest friend, he could usually count on her to help him even out of problems he created himself.

“Not really sure what I can do, buddy.” The smirk was broadening at his distress.

“Advice? Or something? Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

“Hmm. Have you considered talking to him about it?”

“That is the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

She shrugged. “A little before Ty Lee and I reconnected she had a fling with this bounty hunter. Stranger things have happened.”

“June? Ty Lee and June??” He thought for a second. “Actually that’s not that strange. June probably reminded her of you a little bit.” That startled an actual blush out of Mai. Zuko didn’t hesitate to press his advantage. “But completely aside from the age difference - which is not comparable by the way - he’s a world leader in his own right, and someone I’m supposed to be helping rebuild an entire culture. Which my own family destroyed. Telling him about my stupid teenage crush is not going to make any of that any easier for either of us.”

She fixed him with a level stare, cheeks still a little pink. “Maybe the embarrassment will kill you and then all three of us will be out of our misery.”

“Now you’re onto something. How about I just fucking die and leave the whole stupid country to you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She took a delicate bite of a fruit tart. They finished breakfast in silence and she walked him to the council chambers, where his first meeting of the day would be. Mai kissed his cheek for the look of the thing and swept off to attend to other business. Zuko straightened his shoulders, inhaled deeply, and stepped through the door.

X

Training day was usually a relief. Half a day to focus on something other than unfucking the entire world, work out pent up energy from the past week, and imagine beating the crap out of whatever was giving him issues. His teenage years may have been royally screwed, but he really missed the simplicity of that kind of problem solving. But last week someone had suggested inviting the other leaders for some friendly bouts. Talks are going well, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Now Zuko was slowly dying on the edge of a sparring ring as the chiefs circled each other, spears in hand. They’d gone two bouts already, decided on best of three, and peeled out of their shirts for the third.

Sure, the capitol was situated in a fairly tropical climate. Sure, the two of them were from the poles. But if anything, that meant they should be glistening less, right? Didn’t people from colder places sweat less? Zuko’s throat clicked over a dry swallow. He was supposed to take the winner, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand by that point. Hakoda’s back _rippled_ as he shifted his stance. The beaded band around his bicep strained as he casually adjusted his grip on the spear. A solitary bead of sweat made its excruciating way down his spine, vanishing beneath the waist of his pants, and Zuko had to bite his tongue. He nearly missed it when Arnook made his move, the point of his spear flashing as it swept up toward his opponent’s throat. Hakoda stepped fluidly to the side and closed, only narrowly avoiding getting stabbed. His own speartip breathed down the length of Arnook’s weapon before dipping and then threading up between his hands. There was a complicated moment when wood clattered on wood, and then Arnook stumbled away empty handed, and Hakoda grinned triumphantly, a spear behind each shoulder. 

Zuko did not sleep well that night, either.

X

Discussions went a little sour when one of Arnook’s staff accused the fire nation - specifically Zuko - of upstaging the North with his offers of aid. Zuko and Hakoda were united in the mindset that the whole project was about helping people, not political points. They shared more than one annoyed look across the table that meeting, as Arnook very deftly avoided denouncing the man, choosing instead to let his accusation stand. Afterward, Zuko invited the southern chief to his chambers for tea, with the intent of discussing how best to handle the northerners’ political ~~bullshit~~ nuances. What actually ended up happening was a lengthy personal catch-up about Zuko’s friends, complete with reminiscences about breaking out of prison.

“You know,” Hakoda said after a pause, “I was almost convinced you and Sokka had something going on there for a minute.”

Zuko felt his cheeks heating up. “No, he was absolutely smitten with Suki.” He looked down at his teacup, fighting the urge to curl into himself until he imploded. _Maybe the embarrassment will kill you_ Mai drawled in his head.

“That almost sounds like disappointment.”

“I was never that into Sokka,” He trailed off, then forced his head back up to meet the older man’s eyes, “but I can’t fault _her_ taste.” That was it. That was as close as he was going to get, and he was just going to have to deal with whatever came next. Understanding flashed in Hakoda’s eyes.

“Zuko,” he said slowly, “I hope this isn’t going to be a conflict of interest for our negotiations.” Zuko swallowed and nodded. It was surprisingly not a rebuke. But he was right. It was a serious conflict of interest. A fact which had only made the thought more distracting for Zuko over the past few weeks. Wanting things he couldn’t have had always been one of his weaknesses. He wasn’t going to admit to that, though. The shame was bad enough as it was. “Though perhaps we should continue to meet privately, to discuss without having to deal with Arnook’s people.”

Zuko nodded again. “That will most likely be easiest. Join me after training tomorrow? We can speak when I have a clear head.”

He got no such chance. Evidently forgetting the ‘clear head’ point, Hakoda joined him for the last half of training. Zuko, fully out of his moonforsaken mind, was helpless to resist his offer of open-hand sparring. Over the past few weeks he had gotten a bit better at controlling his body’s reaction to the chief. He might get through alive, he thought. Then Hakoda pinned him, hands like iron on his elbow and shoulder, one knee digging into his back, and Mai’s words flashed through his head again.He’d worn loose pants as always, but skipped the tight underclothes, not expecting to need their services. Still, he did his best, remembering his breath control and rising slowly with the excuse of the previous few hours having tired him.

He won the second, but Hakoda’s surprised laughter as he lay on his back beneath Zuko left him in no better state than losing. That was probably why he lost the third. This time, before letting him up, Hakoda leaned in close and whispered, “you’ve got good control. I’m impressed.” Zuko made sure to stand facing away from him.

As they left, he flagged down a passing servant. “Please let the kitchen know I’ll be taking dinner in the dragon’s den. Thank you.” She bowed and continued walking as he turned to the chief. “You’ll be served in your room. Expect me at ten-past. Then we can… discuss some things.”

Servants were forbidden to enter the dragon’s den. They would bring his food to his chambers and leave. He would do the rest, including winding his way through a maze of internal passages until he found the right door.

“Chief Hakoda.” The man was dressed again, and had his back to Zuko, probably because he expected him to arrive by the real door. “Allow me.” Zuko swept into the room, picked up the untouched serving tray, and retreated to the passageway.

“Man alive what is this?”

“Don’t make me think right now. I’m counting steps.” He finally made it back to the intimate little parlor tucked deep into the heart of the palace, where his own food was still warm and waiting. “I don’t really know what all those passageways are. Servants use them when the halls are inconvenient, but there are many that only go from room to room with no access to kitchen or quarters. Mostly I think they’re for keeping secrets.”

“Do I dare ask what secrets the new fire lord needs to keep?”

“There are certain conflicts of interest I’d rather the public didn’t get their hands on.”

“I take it we won’t be discussing politics in here.”

“I told you we would talk when I have a clear head.”

Hakoda settled onto the chaise next to him. “And what would clear your head, lord Zuko?” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Zuko’s ear, the brush of his fingertips sending a thrill down Zuko’s spine.

“Not open hand sparring.”

Hakoda laughed and his eyes flicked briefly to Zuko’s lap. “I meant what I said about your control. You must work hard at it.” His fingertips traced up and down Zuko’s neck, lazily pushing aside the high collar of his robe.

“Certain parts of my position give me cause to.”

The chief grinned at him. “I hope I haven’t made your job entirely onerous.”

Zuko snorted indelicately. “The job is onerous anyways. You just make it really fucking hard to concentrate.” Hakoda laughed again, and Zuko continued, “I mean would it kill you to wear something with sleeves?”

“It’s too hot here for sleeves. Though I take it your shroud of mystery is part of your horrible job?” He tweaked the high collar, leaving it slightly open.

“It has its perks. Like hiding exactly how distracted I am.”

The chief’s grin widened wickedly. “How often?”

“Every day the first week.” Zuko admitted, feeling a flush rise from his open collar to flood his cheeks, and dipping his head again to hide it. The smile softened into something almost tender, and Hakoda reached out again to turn Zuko’s face toward his.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It is not a shame to want. Come here.” He beckoned, and Zuko slid easily into his lap, straddling his thighs to face him, heart racing, hands braced on broad, sturdy shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?” Zuko nodded, breathless. “And this?” Gentle fingers undid the clasps of Zuko’s robe, baring him to Hakoda’s view. He brushed lightly over the lightning scar on Zuko’s chest, then smoothed his palms around his waist and settled them on Zuko’s hips. “What else?”

The burn in his cheeks wasn’t going away in any case, and telling the truth had gotten him this far. “I’ve imagined your hands on me. Putting me where you want me.”

“Have you, now?” He pulled at Zuko’s hips, sliding him forward until his erection pressed against Hakoda’s stomach, bare chest to the front of his tunic. “Grind down.” He spread his knees, giving Zuko room to rock against the bulge in his lap, sliding their erections together. “That’s it, just like that.”

Zuko thrilled at feeling Hakoda’s hard cock beneath him. He had done that. After endless fantasies and more than his own share of hard-ons, he could get Hakoda worked up, too.

“You’re hard already?”

“I was the moment I sat down. You’re just too polite to look.” Zuko moaned wordlessly and rutted desperately into Hakoda’s lap, too turned on to think of a smart reply. His breath came hot and quick, just this side of panting, until the hands on his hips pushed him back. “Slow down, Zuko. I know you want it. Just be patient.” Zuko’s hands slipped down Hakoda’s chest to his belt, somehow able to work the knot without input from his static-filled brain. Then the shirt was falling open, and he could run his hands as much as he wanted over miles and miles of brown skin, cut through by pale scars, delighted at the soft plush layering the bulk of muscle below. He wanted to bury his face in that chest, suffocate in it, let Hakoda wrap around him until he didn’t exist anymore. Zuko’s fingertips paused at a set of scars over his ribs. They looked different from the rest, like they had been water healed. “Day of black sun,” Hakoda murmured. Zuko nodded, dropping his hands to the laces of Hakoda’s pants. He palmed over the chief’s cock first, feeling the thickness and weight of it, unsure if he should go further. If he would be welcome. “Go on.” Hakoda brushed the hair back from Zuko’s face, studying him as he loosened the string and pulled the fabric aside to take him fully in hand.

“Fuck. I imagined this, too.” Zuko breathed. When he wrenched his gaze away and met the chief’s eyes again, the blue had receded to little more than a thin ring surrounding blown-out pupils.

“I hope your fantasies haven’t spoiled you for the real thing.” How on earth he could be coherent enough to school his face into a wry smile, make a joke like that, Zuko would never know. He could only answer with honesty. Guile and coy teasing were beyond him now.

“Spirits no, Hakoda I-” He cut off as the chief’s eyes flashed, and the careful humor fell away. Maybe he wasn’t so put together after all. The thought made Zuko drip slightly, and he rolled his hips without thinking. The hand still holding them tightened, and he was certain he would have bruises later. It only made his cock twitch and his breath catch again.

“Then stroke me. Stroke my cock with those beautiful fingers and tell me how you want it.”

Zuko wet his palm with his own spit and wrapped his hand back around the chief, giving him a few slow pumps. The groan that rumbled from the older man’s chest broke something in Zuko, and the words spilled out of him before he could stop them.

“I want it like this. I want you on your back in my bed where I can see every inch of you. I want you to grab my hair and wrap my mouth around your cock and fill me up until I choke.” He stroked a little faster. “I want to feel your cock rutting against my thigh, my ass, my face. Anywhere, Hakoda” The hands clamped on his hip and thigh spasmed again as he said Hakoda’s name. “Any way you’ll give it to me.” Hakoda groaned again and bucked up into his fist, close to unseating him.

“You want me in your mouth?” Zuko nodded, still reeling from the filth that had come out of it, ashamed at his loss of control, and unwilling to risk more words. “On your knees, then.” He obliged, slithering to the floor to fit himself between Hakoda’s spread thighs in a pool of loose robes. “Look at you,” Hakoda ran a finger along Zuko’s jaw, “such a pretty pet.” He pressed the finger to Zuko’s lips, and Zuko accepted it without thinking, closing his lips around the knuckle and rolling his tongue up the length of it. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?” Zuko shook his head, hoping it wouldn’t ruin his chance. “Mmm. Then come here. Go slow and do as I tell you.” The finger slipped from his mouth and a strong hand curled around the back of his neck, pulling him gently forward. Zuko submitted blissfully to the pressure, shutting his eyes for a moment until the hot length of Hakoda’s erection slid against his cheek, and his nose brushed into the soft hair around its base. He nestled his face into the crease of the chief’s thigh, inhaling the thick, human scent of him, looking up to find warm, blue-black eyes locked with his. Zuko pressed a few tiny, exploratory kisses there around the base, letting Hakoda’s cock flex along his jaw, not daring to go closer. Here, he felt hyperreal, every nerve in his body humming against his brain, clamoring to be heard, to tell him every place his shoulders met Hakoda’s thighs, or Hakoda’s fingers met his skin, and how unbearably wet it was making him. For all that, he couldn’t do anything with the information. He had given up control the moment his knees hit the floor, and all he could do was work his lips timidly over Hakoda’s skin and wait for his next instruction. “Start there. And use your hand until you’re ready.” Zuko did as he was told, pillowing his head on the chief’s thigh to watch for a moment as his pale fingers worked over hot, dark skin. The thought of tasting him, of feeling that weight on his tongue, was enough to make him tremble in overwhelm. But he had to. Or he would have to. Somehow. 

Hakoda ran a soothing hand through his hair. “That’s it, pet. You’re doing so good for me.” Zuko shut his eyes again and pressed his mouth to the base of his cock like a wet, open kiss, lips sliding obscenely around the shape of it until he had no choice but to press his tongue forward to cradle the thick curve. He felt as much as heard the rumble of approval from the older man, and just barely remembered to keep his hand moving. He slipped his mouth up to meet his fingers, licking a wide stripe up the side, a muffled groan escaping from his throat. He was so close to what he wanted - so nearly there. Would he be able to take it, when Hakoda asked? He shivered again and moaned quietly into that safe, humid spot between thigh and cock, where he didn’t have to be bold or make decisions or know what he was capable of. Here, he was Hakoda’s, and he would do as Hakoda said.

“Do that again.” He did. Mouthing up and down the length of him, licking greedily under the head, suddenly desperate to know anyway, to prove to himself he could take it, that he wouldn’t fall to pieces when the time came. “Can you give me more, Zuko? You’re doing so good.” 

“I-” _I need you to do it for me_ Zuko thought, _I don’t know if I can do it myself._ He felt torn, ripped open between overwhelming desire and paralyzing shame. Like he had shaken free of his skin, and his heart would be clearly visible where it raced behind his ribs. Hakoda gripped his chin and turned his face up until their eyes met.

“Zuko. It is not shameful to want. Now tell me again.”

“I want it like this.” He recited like a prayer. The words had already stained his lips. Repeating them was easy, simple, safe. “I want you to grab my hair and wrap my mouth around your cock and fill me up until I choke.” He squeezed Hakoda’s leg, punctuating his final word. “ _Please._ ”

“What a perfect little pet you are, Zuko.” Hakoda released his chin and wound his fingers through Zuko’s hair, gripping close to his scalp. The slight burn as he tilted Zuko’s head back made him gasp. Hakoda leaned down and smiled against Zuko’s slack mouth, slipping his other hand down Zuko’s spine to cup and squeeze at his ass before trailing over his hip to do the same to his cock. Zuko had almost forgotten he existed beyond where his skin met Hakoda’s. He whined and ground forward into the pressure, awareness crashing back over him. “Take this out for me, pet. I want you to touch yourself.” Zuko untied his laces by feel alone, head still held firmly in place, huffing shallow breaths into the chief’s mouth. The relief of his hand was immediate, and he let his eyes fall shut and breathed out a small moan. “That’s it.” Hakoda kissed him then, so tenderly he thought he might melt, the soft press of his lips on Zuko’s a stark contrast to the firm hold of his hand in Zuko’s hair. Then he straightened, and the pressure on Zuko’s neck eased, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. Maybe he hoped it would be easier to accept, that way. That the shame would recede if he didn’t look, didn’t think, didn’t let himself want. But that, he couldn’t stop. He did want. He was desperate for it. And when the blunt head of Hakoda’s cock brushed over his lips, slick with spit and pre-come, Zuko tried to seek after it, to take it fully into his mouth. The hand in his hair held him back. He would get no more than he was given, and Hakoda had meant it when he told Zuko to go slow. When he did get more, he had barely slipped his lips over the head when he was brought up short again. Zuko whined and squirmed and stroked himself there on the floor between Hakoda’s knees. He swirled his tongue around what he could reach before sealing his lips and sucking in soft, hungry pulses. But it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and stared imploringly into Hakoda’s enraptured face that he was allowed any more.

“Look at you,” he murmured again, pulling Zuko further onto his cock, “taking it like you were built for it. Do you like that, pet?” Zuko nodded as well as he could, because there was no way to say that ‘like’ would never come close to describing the overwhelming lust now coursing through his body. All he could do was shut his eyes and let his jaw go slack, muffled, choked-off moans pulled from his throat every time Hakoda thrust into him, lips and chin wet with spit, cock throbbing in his hand. Every time his nose bumped the ring of Hakoda’s fist around the base of his cock, Zuko found himself wishing he would let go, give him all of it, let him choke like he asked for. But he wouldn’t, and too soon he was whispering, “do you want my come, pet?” and ‘want’ had the same problem as ‘like’, so Zuko just nodded again. When the bitter heat of it flooded his tongue he nearly flinched away, again held steady by the fist in his hair, but he drank it down and continued sucking softly until Hakoda pulled him away. The hand in his hair softened and carded gently through the long strands, releasing him. Zuko stayed on his knees, resting his head on the chief’s thigh again, stroking himself slow and lazy, and not bothering to wipe the tears or spit from his face.

“You did so good. That was perfect, pet. Do you want to come, too?” Hakoda stroked his hair, watching him run his thumb over his slit.

“Yes.”

“Come here.” He helped Zuko back up into his lap and wrapped a hand around him. It only took a few strokes before he locked up and whited out, bracing himself on Hakoda’s shoulders and spilling onto his chest. Zuko shivered slightly and panted in the aftermath, resisting the urge to drape himself bonelessly over the other man. Really, he wanted nothing more than to settle onto his chest and feel those arms around him. But he didn’t want to make the mess worse, so he slipped to the side instead, and felt blindly on the table until he found a serving towel to clean up.

They didn’t talk politics over dinner.

X

Zuko regretted saying anything about sleeves. Obviously, Hakoda’s outfit tonight could have had nothing to do with _him_ , but it seemed almost too well-timed. The chief wore a version of water tribe regalia rendered in light cottons and silks instead of hides and furs. A long, roomy upper garment fell to his knees, embroidered and trimmed with beautiful, angular patterns. The loose sleeves of it were gathered just above his elbows by the same bands he usually wore, and his forearms were covered with familiar dark blue wraps. Below the hem of his tunic, similarly cut pants gathered into tall, soft-soled boots, decorated in much the same fashion. Beads glittered in his hair and at his throat, matching the bands holding his sleeves. Incredible as he looked, Zuko found he missed the sight of his skin. Even in such light, airy fabrics, the outfit spoke of bitter cold. But Hakoda’s skin always looked warm. That felt more right, in Zuko’s mind. Mai pinched him lightly on the back of his arm.

“Try not to drool, Zuko. This is a formal event.”

“Like you didn’t gasp audibly when Ty Lee made her appearance.”

“You’re the only one close enough to hear that. Anyone with eyes can see yours popping out of your skull.”

“If you don’t keep me alive through this, the whole shitshow becomes your responsibility.” Zuko murmured into an hors d’oeuvre. No need to spook the guests. Some of his advisors had particularly delicate constitutions.

“I never should have married you.”

“But you did and now you’re stuck with me.”

“Good thing I like you.”

“I love you, too Mai.” He kissed her cheek and sent her off to mingle dutifully with other guests. They had a routine for these things now. Make their appearance together, do most of the function separately, with brief convergences, then leave early together so Mai could slip off to Ty Lee’s and Zuko could unwind in peace. He did his greetings in a haze, unable to think of much aside from the way every move, every shift hinted at the shape of the chief’s body beneath his clothes. The body Zuko had been pressed against, that he had fit into his hands and his mouth, that had coaxed shocking confessions from his lips mere days ago. It was fine. He’d had worse appearances. These days his reputation for hard work could generally cover his ass. Although his ass was rapidly becoming a secondary concern at the moment. He was back to the same helpless reaction as Hakoda approached, soft boots soundless on the gleaming tile, beads flashing merrily, daring Zuko to stare.

“Zuko,” he greeted warmly, “you look like you’re suffocating.” The hint of laughter in his voice made Zuko’s knees weak. It was difficult enough to handle his stupid teenage crush when Hakoda was being the serious, thoughtful head of state. The relaxed, friendly feast-goer was a whole different arena.

“These events are one of the more onerous parts of the job.” He smiled anyway, glad of the company at least.

Hakoda stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I talked to Arnook and he’s actually much more manageable one on one. I think it may be best to return to separate negotiations.”

Zuko clenched his jaw, doing his best to wrap his head around the implications despite the intoxicating proximity. “That almost defeats the purpose of you both coming here. I don’t want to have wasted your time.”

“It’s not your fault they’re a fucking handful. Anyways, we can talk about it later.” He flashed a wink at Zuko before letting himself be pulled away by some faceless businessman draped in the latest earth kingdom fashions. Zuko continued in a haze of doubt and swirling colors until Mai caught hold of him.

“Zuko is there tea here?” He blinked at her until his brain caught up. Their code. _Are you alright?_ He took stock of himself. Keyed up, worried, too many sounds, no time to think.

“There’s some assam, I think.” _Need some quiet._

“Will you pour me some?” _Let’s go._ She attached herself to his arm and they slipped through a side door into the cool quiet of the hall. They stood quietly together for a minute or more before Mai asked, “anything in particular?” He couldn’t explain. He hadn’t told her. He didn’t have a handle on it yet.

“Just a lot of things.” She nodded. “I don’t mean to keep you. If you wanted to talk to Ty Lee…” Mai caught his drift, gave his hand a brief squeeze, and vanished.

Zuko wandered along, breathing slowly, trying to settle his mind. With no intention of returning to the feast, he made his way to the gardens, letting his hair down from its knot and tucking the obnoxious crown away. He lifted the stiff, formal mantle over his head and set it down on a bench. The night air on his neck and face cooled him down and steadied his nerves. Zuko wandered beneath a broad, hanging willow and stopped, finally feeling something close to solitude. He leaned heavily against the trunk and closed his eyes. So the southern delegation was probably going to leave. If that meant a smoother path to reconstruction, Zuko had no reason to object. Except... So this was what conflict of interest meant. But he’d had his amusement. He would just have to content himself with it. Even if it felt like having the breath knocked from his lungs. Leaves swished nearby, and his illusion of solitude shattered. Someone stood at the edge of the branches, holding a curtain of leaves aside, unmoving. Moonlight glinted on beads.

“Chief Hakoda.”

“Lord Zuko.”

Zuko extended a hand, inviting him closer. “What are you doing out here?”

“Enjoying the garden. Then I spotted you. You don’t look well.” He squeezed Zuko’s hand like Mai had, then tucked a sheet of hair behind his ear.

“I’m managing.” Zuko leaned unconsciously into the contact, fitting his cheek into Hakoda’s palm.

“Clearing your head?”

“Not successfully.”

“Well then.” Hakoda closed the last distance between them, pressing Zuko to the trunk of the tree and kissing up his neck and jaw to his mouth. “Those robes make me wonder what might be hiding underneath, Zuko. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me.” He whispered.

“You know what you do to me. You know what’s underneath.” Zuko clutched at the loose tunic, pulling their hips flush, letting the chief feel how he rose to his touch. Hakoda groaned quietly against his lips.

“Spirits, Zu. You’re going to kill me.”

Zuko squeezed Hakoda’s ass, rocking them together, feeling him begin to harden, too. “That would reflect poorly on my part in the reconstruction project.”

“You’re doing just fine.” He kissed Zuko again, winding a hand into his hair, sucking down the little needy sounds spilling from his throat. With his free hand, he pushed Zuko’s robe aside, curling possessive fingers around his hip, where pale blue-green marks still lingered underneath his clothes. Zuko relinquished his hold on Hakoda to pull insistently at his tunic, gathering it until he could reach under the hem for the waist of his pants. Hakoda swore quietly against his neck, sending a thrill straight to his cock. Zuko took him in hand, stroking clumsily so close together, squirming slightly when he breathed, “That’s good, pet” into Zuko’s ear. Soon Hakoda’s hands were on Zuko’s flies, loosening the laces, pulling him free. He backed up slightly, sliding his length against Zuko’s before wrapping them both in one broad hand. If not for the tree behind him, Zuko might have collapsed as his knees trembled beneath him. He let his head fall back and pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds he couldn’t control.

“You like my cock against yours?” Hakoda murmured in his ear, nipping at the lobe. Zuko nodded, his eyes squeezed shut in an effort not to come then and there. The thick heat of him, the rough drag of his hand, the scratch of his beard on Zuko’s neck were overwhelming. He wouldn’t keep control for long. “It’s okay, pet. I know you’re close. Come for me.” Zuko gasped against his palm, fucking into Hakoda’s fist, feeling their cocks slide deliciously together, and spilled over the both of them.

When his head cleared and his breathing evened out, cold horror washed over him. The palace gardens were public. What was he doing, rutting against the chief like some kind of animal? The privacy of the dragon’s den was one thing. This transgression was far too much to handle. Hakoda’s chest and arms still caged him against the trunk of the willow, solid and grounding, but also the exact reason he was losing it.

“Zuko?” Hakoda backed up slightly, and the retreating pressure opened Zuko up to a flood of conflicting emotions. They must have shown on his face because Hakoda tucked himself away and let the tunic fall. As Zuko did the same he asked “was that alright?”

“You did nothing wrong.” Zuko said stiffly.

“But?”

“But I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. What am I doing? Why can’t I just-” He stopped, realizing he was close to shouting, sparks crackling between his fingertips.

“Just what, Zu?” Hakoda asked quietly. The gentleness of his voice only added to Zuko’s shame at his behavior. He couldn’t even keep his temper in check.

He swallowed. “Just be normal.” Even to his own ears, the plea was pitiful. Their cave under the willow was too dark to make out the chief’s expression, but the line of his shoulders softened visibly, and he gently clasped Zuko’s bicep.

“Do you think nobody has ever done this before? Liked somebody they thought they shouldn’t? Taken what they could get when it was offered? Do you think you’re the only one?”

“They’re not the fire lord,” he muttered, but folded softly into Hakoda’s gathering arms anyways. Agni it felt good to be held.

“It was a foolish thing to do. I’m sorry for pushing you, Zuko. I’ll be more careful in future.” Zuko floundered slightly, unsure why Hakoda would be apologizing to him, until the other part of the sentence caught up to him.

“We… should talk.”

After a slow circuit around the moonlit garden, during which Hakoda explained that there was plenty still to do in the capitol and he had no plans to leave, and Zuko slowly went crazy with the need to be wrapped up in his arms again, they found themselves back beneath the tree.

“Thank you, chief. I hope the rest of your time with us is... enjoyable. The fire nation is happy to provide every comfort.”

“Zu,” Hakoda chuckled, “just say it.” He pulled Zuko up against his side and gave his butt a teasing pinch.

Zuko leaned in to murmur in his ear, “I want to suck you off tonight. It’s only fair. We can go to the dragon’s den.”

“Who am I to refuse that kind of hospitality?”

X

Hakoda eyed him shrewdly. Zuko tried not to think of the last face that had given him that look. That would make it worse. So far he had been fairly successful at not thinking about how he knew the chief - the other part of their relationship. But it was difficult when he made all the same faces Sokka and Katara had. And that only reminded him of how wrong he was to be here, in the dragon’s den, pursuing a man more than twice his age and irreconcilably tangling the interests of his country with his own personal hangups. But. And of course there was a but. He never felt as good as he did in Hakoda’s capable hands, with those deep blue eyes on him, and a hot whisper of “pet” in his ear.

“You’re still struggling with it.” It was a statement.

“It is a massive conflict of interest...” gone was the time when Zuko could chase after one thing with single-minded interest and damn the consequences. Four years had nearly trained the impulse out of him. Fire lord Zuko was a very different man from prince Zuko.

“It’s deeper than that, Zu.” He wasn’t sure when the nickname had crept into their conversations, but it was comforting, sweet, a reminder that this was just between them. “You’re still fighting the shame. Behind everything else, it hurts you to want - anything if I had to guess. But especially anything that makes you feel good”

“What I want is never right.” And it had always consumed him. His father’s approval and all it entailed. Azula’s defeat, no matter how quickly it had come. His mother’s whereabouts. And this. They always hurt. Want was synonymous with hurt, in Zuko’s experience. What did it say about him that he would drive endlessly forward into wrong, bad, pain, _shame?_

“Never? Don’t you want to help my people? And the colonies? Don’t you want a peaceful, joyous world for the newest generation of air nomads?”

“That’s a duty. That’s not for-” he trailed off, breath caught in his throat.

“You.” Hakoda finished for him. Zuko struggled to breathe. It wasn’t like this was new. Zuko did not let himself want. Not anything he could actually have. But spoken like that, by his own traitorous lips?

“It. I can’t - they consume -” were there words for how he felt? For why he couldn’t be trusted? Words he could say aloud. To Hakoda. No.

“Zuko. Come here.” Zuko slid gracelessly across the chaise into the chief’s arms. A cool hand slid up and down his back in a steady, familiar rhythm. He timed his breathing with it. “Unclench your hands.” It took effort, but he flattened his palms against his own chest. “And your jaw.” More effort, but he did. “Shoulders… back… legs… good job, Zuko.” Hakoda’s hands and voice gently chased away the tension coiled in every part of Zuko’s body until he lay draped in the older man’s lap with his head resting on his shoulder and his hands loose between them. “I haven’t given you nearly enough credit. I told you it isn’t shameful to want, and I meant it. But for you, Zuko. It is a brave thing to do. To face everything that hurts you and tells you not to, and share it with me anyways? You have incredible courage. I hope you will use some of it to be gentle with yourself.”

Zuko didn’t feel brave. He felt tired. And shaky. After a few moments he realized his hands were indeed trembling where they lay in his lap. It took almost as much effort to quash the impulse to still them as it would to curl them back into fists until they behaved. But he let them shake, and continued timing his breaths with the long, grounding stokes up and down his spine. Until Hakoda shifted slightly beneath him, reaching for the little table with his other hand. It came back holding a dumpling.

“Here, Zu. Eat.” As always, he did as Hakoda said. 

Zuko didn’t know how long they sat like that, Hakoda occasionally presenting a morsel of food or a long-cooled teacup to nibble or sip. He hadn’t been cared for like this since falling ill in Ba Sing Se. It had been Iroh then, tending to him and making sure he was safe and warm and loved.

“You’re acting a lot like a father. Not mine, clearly but… you know.”

Hakoda chuckled. “It’s a hard habit to break, unfortunately.”

“Stop it for a minute. Let me kiss you.” The hand stilled on his back as he straightened.

Hakoda’s eyes twinkled between the fans of his smile lines. “Feeling a little better?”

“I said stop it.” Zuko raised his hands from his lap to cradle the chief’s face, fingertips brushing at those lines, thumbs nestled in the brackets around his mouth. When it looked like he might speak again, Zuko pressed a thumb over his lips. “Sh.” He smiled, and it came easily, not forced or rigid like so many he plastered onto his face for courtly purposes. He watched Hakoda’s own smile grow in response until he couldn’t bear to not be kissing him a second longer. The chiefs arms settled loosely around Zuko’s waist, holding him close without taking control, without asking any more of him than he was already giving. Somewhat to his surprise, Zuko found his body unmoved by the kiss, soft and warm and delicious as it was. “Can we just… do this? For now?” He whispered against Hakoda’s lips, the words ‘be gentle with yourself’ echoing in his head, but half terrified of disappointing him still.

“Anything you want, Zu.” Hakoda whispered back, giving him a gentle squeeze.

There was a tender kind of joy, he found, in the slow exploration of another man’s lips. Even without the coiling of heat in his belly. Or perhaps especially without it. Zuko basked in the closeness, the affection, the pliant motion of Hakoda’s mouth beneath his. He took his time, savoring each slow exhale, content to be held, and to kiss, and to be kissed. To share something secret and soft and alive.

Later, when he had escorted the chief back to his rooms, he leaned in for one last, sweet brush against Hakoda’s lips and found himself wrapped in another warm hug.

“I’m proud of you, Zuko.” Hakoda whispered in his ear. 

Zuko bit down a smart response and instead murmured back, “thank you, Hakoda.”

That night he slept like the dead.

X

Fighting with a spear did not come easily to Zuko. He had years of practice with his dao to work out the depth and range, but with a spear in his hands, everything felt too wild, too nebulous. He didn’t have the same feel for its heft and reach. Zuko bit back several choice words as it clattered from his hands again. The appraising look Hakoda gave him didn’t help his mood.

“You can swear if you want. I won’t be offended.”

“I just keep getting tangled” Zuko bent to snatch the obnoxious weapon back up and try again. Three disastrous attempts and a bruised right hand later, he started swearing. Another two attempts and Hakoda stopped him, pointing wordlessly to the handprints singed into the shaft. Zuko took several deep breaths, trying to calm the fire. It still roiled in his chest, pushing up at his throat. He hated when it did that, hated the reminder of how twisted firebending had become. Of course the hate never made it any easier to handle. Zuko tipped his head back and poured flame into the sky, letting it burst from his mouth in a great red plume. Afterward he spat, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of anger. When he looked up, breath still coming in heaving gulps, he found Hakoda watching, darkness in his eyes. All the energy left him. Like he’d been gut punched and never got his breath back.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t pretty.” Zuko looked at his feet. “Fire is supposed to be life. Purpose. An inner drive. In that way it can be really beautiful. But I slipped back into rage. And you deserve better.”

“So show me better.” Hakoda’s voice was drawn tight. Zuko’s head snapped up before his mind had time to understand. “Show me beautiful, Zuko.”

He and Aang had worked on this on and off for years. They had hunted down and dug out older and older bending scrolls, reconstructing and renterpeting until, like water and earth, they had the bones of a bending style that was as much art as it was martial. He settled on a subtle form, one that drew heavily from airbending techniques Aang had been recovering in his own time. The rhythm of it flowed light and soft and unstoppable as the breeze. Even a cold run made sparks crackle around his fingertips. They were fleeting and harmless, just energy set free by the motion, but the quiet power in it always humbled Zuko. This was a gift, worth more than just anger. He shook the last sparks from his hands and faced the chief again.

“Would you like to see it hot?” A nod. He breathed deeply and let the energy flow. On a better day he might have been able to call the multicolored fire of the dragons. Right now, he was still too riled up for that, but instead of the usual red-orange, his fire glowed a luminous gold as it danced and spun with him through step after step. A final breath to cool the inner flame, one terrifying moment of uncertainty, and he sought Hakoda’s eyes again. The shadow was gone, replaced by wonder.

“Beautiful indeed,” he breathed.

“It’s the kind of fire I want the world to have. Something - something I’m not ashamed of. That hasn’t been used for, well, atrocities.”

“Who else has seen?”

“Just Aang. Maybe Katara. It’s not ready yet. We don’t have as much time as I’d like to work on it.”

“Zuko. You’re doing something brilliant. I’m honored to witness it.”

“Do you want to learn it?”

“A bending form?”

“Cold, obviously, but the principle stands even without the fire.”

Hakoda was a much better student than Zuko. He only swore a little bit the third time he tripped, and laughed when Zuko feigned horror. By the time the sun touched the horizon, he had the basic steps down and was starting to ease into the subtler aspects of the motion.  
“You know,” Zuko said offhandedly, “this still isn’t my favorite use of fire bending.”

“And what is your favorite?”

“You’ll find out eventually.”

X

Zuko was getting better at it - asking for things without immediately wanting to evaporate. Taking his pleasure without sinking into shame. That didn’t mean it was easy, though, and he found himself once again buried in the ditch of Hakoda’s thigh, heart in his throat, hands clasping at whatever they could reach.

“You want something, pet?” Hakoda pushed his hair from his face, not letting him hide, toying with him. Zuko found it comforting and exhilarating at the same time. The chief would play with him, let him work himself up, watch him squirm on nights like this. But he also knew when Zuko was struggling, when it was too much. If Zuko was still ‘pet’ everything was alright. He could do this. He could ask.

“Will you fuck me?” He couldn’t stop the blush, but he did meet Hakoda’s eyes, and was rewarded for his effort by a dark flash of desire in their blue depths. His lips parted slightly before pressing back together for his response.

“Mm… tonight?”

“Next week, what the fuck do you think, Hakoda?”

That got a laugh, and the tension in Zuko’s back eased. He flattened his palms on the chiefs thighs, rubbing up and down to loosen his shoulders before palming over his cock again. “I really want it,” he whispered, almost to himself. The thought didn’t terrify him like it had the first night, of taking all that into himself, making room for it, spearing himself open. It made him a little breathless, a little dizzy, and very very wet.

“It’d be easier to do in a bed,” Hakoda mused, gathering Zuko’s hair back in a loose fist. “Could really spread you out, show off those beautiful thighs.”

“Fuck. We’re going.” Zuko was on his feet in an instant, not bothering to find his shirt or lace up his pants, only throwing a robe around his shoulders and roughly fastening the side tie. He grabbed Hakoda’s hand, who had re-tied his fly but also foregone a shirt, and hauled him along the dark, cramped internal passageways of the palace. It was a risk, half-dressed as they were. The service corridors were devoid of convenient alcoves and decorations which might shield them from passing eyes, and Zuko wasn’t naive enough to dismiss the power of servants’ gossip. They were also his citizens, and in some ways held more sway than his closest ministers. But the halls were deserted, and the two of them tumbled into Zuko’s spacious bed, an exhilarated tangle of limbs and silk and panting half-kisses. Hakoda flipped Zuko onto his back and made short work of his remaining clothes, sliding his pants down his thighs and leaving him to wiggle his shoulders out of the open robe. He paused then, and the look he gave Zuko made him flush from his groin to his hairline.

“Tui’s eyes, you’re gorgeous. Do that again.” He smiled, running his hands back up Zuko’s legs to push his knees apart, eyes roving over Zuko’s body, drinking him in. Zuko’s only response was a stifled whimper. He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip and tossed his head back into the mattress, Hakoda’s gaze on him a near-physical thing, pinning him just as surely as his hands could. Broad thighs slid beneath his, lifting his hips, folding him slightly as Hakoda leaned over him, arms on either side of his torso. “Comfortable, pet?” 

Zuko nodded, unsure whether he would be able to speak. Here, in his bed, spread beneath the chief and waiting to be devoured, the thought was suddenly overwhelming again. He had no idea what he had asked for, or whether he would even be able to stand it when it came. Cool hands settled around his ribs and slipped down to his hips, then over his stomach and up to his chest, soothing, focusing. A single finger traced his jaw.

“Tell me, Zu.”

“I want it like this.” He breathed, the words coming easily. They were familiar now. He had used them over and over, time and time again. To remind his trembling body, soothe his racing thoughts. To say _Yes, I do want this. Yes, I trust you. Yes, yes, yes._ Zuko unclenched his jaw and relaxed his hands.

“Perfect, pet.” Hakoda slipped the finger between Zuko’s lips, letting him lavish attention on it, settle into something familiar for a moment. Then he drew his hand back and reached between them to brush, feather-light against Zuko’s entrance. Zuko gasped and shivered even at that little bit of contact, so different from his own hand. Because he _had_ tried it - more and more lately - and it felt good enough to ask Hakoda for it, but not like _this_. Not enough to make his spine tighten into a bow, his hips move of their own volition toward that infinitesimal touch. And of course, Hakoda had arranged him so that he couldn’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t move those steady, solid thighs aside to chase after his hand. Like the first time, like every first time, he wouldn’t get more until he begged. If anyone else in the world knew how willingly he did - if anyone could see him twist and writhe and whimper delicious supplication to the head of another nation - then it would all be over. He trembled to think what this terrible lust might mean in the hands of a baser man. Or maybe it was just the hands of a good man making him shake like that. Hakoda watched with ravenous eyes as he pressed another digit in, and Zuko struggled to keep himself together. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so hot how ruined he was already, absolutely gone on two of the chief’s fingers and a quiet purr of “you’re not going to last, pet.” Hakoda brought him off like that; his hands and his voice and his thighs folding Zuko in half, splitting him open, engulfing him until he cried out and shook apart.

Zuko awoke to the soft glow of lamplight ebbing and flickering as a breeze filled the room from the open window. Parchment rustled beside him. He turned his head to see Hakoda, still without his shirt, propped against the headboard, reading a familiar scroll.

“Is that-”

“The fisherman’s wife.” He shuffled the scroll along. “Kinky stuff.”

“So fucking me in my bed wasn’t enough. You had to dig out and read my porn, too?”

“I haven’t fucked you yet. But the night is young,” the words came out mild, but were accompanied by a searing once-over, like a protracted version of the look that had pinned him to the bed before, until it softened, “and you deserved a nap.” Zuko must have looked absolutely wrecked, hair a mess from sex and sleep, barely covered by the corner of a sheet, splayed on the bed where he had knocked out after cleaning himself off, now with a flush creeping up from the heat kindling low in his belly. The sheet slipped slightly as he shifted, and the soft drag only encouraged the hopeful twitching of his cock. “I’m nearly done.” Hakoda shuffled the scroll along again, releasing Zuko from the weight of his stare. Zuko rolled forward, draping his arm over the older man’s lap and rubbing his nose against the soft, smooth skin of his midriff, shamelessly seeking contact.

“How did you even find that?”

“Was looking for this.” Hakoda tapped the bottle of massage oil on the nightstand. “They were in the same spot.” He met Zuko’s eyes. “Wonder why.” He looked so soft like this, lips quirked in a half smile, disheveled and sticky, his whole body relaxed, with the lamplight illuminating streaks of silver at his temples. The sight froze Zuko, then thawed him entirely, that he should be trusted with it, with this version of the chief. The thought was breathtaking, and he had to shut his eyes and press his face into the tender place between ribs and hipbone and tuck tiny kisses there, if only to feel like he deserved it. He dug his fingers into the soft plush layering Hakoda’s thigh, then again over his chest, his belly, his side opposite where Zuko still pressed his face, as if the truth of his hand might be easier to believe than his eyes. Parchment rustled. Wood clicked against wood.

“Spirits, you are hard to ignore.” Hakoda’s voice was as soft and affectionate as his skin, no hint of admonishment in his tone.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Zuko mumbled, still buried in his side.

“Zu, when someone as beautiful as you wants my attention this badly, I don’t keep him waiting.” He caught Zuko’s wrist and brushed a kiss onto his pulse point. “Come on, up with you. Lets see those beautiful lips. Give them some attention, hm?” Zuko peeled himself willingly from the chief’s side and clambered into his lap for a fast and dirty replay of the beginning of the evening with less clothing and more fingering. The oil eased the friction some, but not the hot, overwhelming stretch that drew his breath into a whine and made him shake again as his body adjusted in fluttering waves. He clutched at Hakoda’s shoulders like the first night, moaning helplessly into his neck, letting himself be fucked open by gentle, relentless fingers. A hand gripped the back of his neck and hauled him upright, rocking his weight back so he sank inescapably lower onto them with a wordless cry.

“Look at me, pet.” pupil-black eyes glinted at him, deep and hungry and ruined. It still took Zuko’s breath away, that a look like that could be for him, that he could drive the chief just as mad as he himself had been driven. “You want me to fuck you?” How could he say something like that and expect Zuko to survive? To answer? To do anything but nod and squirm and grind feverishly back into his hand? “Tell me.” Zuko always did as he was told.

“I want it,” he gasped, “any way you’ll give it to me.”

“Then up.” Hakoda withdrew his hand and gave Zuko’s thigh a wet smack. Zuko watched him step out of his pants and tried hard not to grab for him the moment he returned to the bed. “Give me those lips again, pet.” Hakoda purred, and smiled when Zuko glanced between his mouth and his cock. “Wherever you want.” Everywhere. Every inch of him. Every place his hands had touched, every place they hadn’t. But if he didn’t get some part of that man inside him again soon, he was probably going to cry. So Zuko crushed their mouths together in a slick, messy, needy kiss, more enthusiasm than finesse, before sinking low over his belly where his cock lay, full and dark and gorgeous, waiting for his attentions. 

It had been a few nights before Hakoda would let him do this without a guiding hand in his hair, and a few more before he took his other hand away and let Zuko have as much as he wanted. He’d had to beg for each step, burning alive in the shelter of Hakoda’s thighs from desire and shame and gut-clenching arousal. Now he could take it deep and make it wet and messy and moan into it, bury his face in the hot, spit-wet crease of the chief’s thigh not because he was afraid, but because he loved it. He loved watching his hand work over the length of Hakoda’s cock, hearing the rumbles of pleasure above him, meeting that searing gaze and knowing it was good.

“Such a pretty pet.” Hakoda hooked a thumb behind Zuko’s teeth, beneath his tongue. “Get comfortable for me.”

Zuko lay on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms, one leg hitched up slightly, a mess of oil and spit and sweat and pre-come. Hakoda’s knees pushed his further apart, spreading him open as cool fingers kneaded into his lower back.

“Tell me again, pet.”

“I want it like this.” Zuko lifted his hips against the pressure to nudge against the chief’s cock for a bare moment before they were pushed back down and held immobile. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Hakoda ground against him first, cock sliding velvet hot and obscene up the cleft of his ass, dragging against his rim and making him whine and squirm against the iron grip on his hips. If he was lucky, he’d have bruises again. The thought made him a little dizzy. Then the weight behind him shifted and one hand released his hip and Hakoda was pressing into him, slow and blazing and inexorable, stealing Zuko’s breath again and stinging his eyes with tears. 

He bottomed out and paused, leaning over Zuko’s back to kiss his shoulder and murmur into his ear, “that’s it pet. More?” 

Zuko would have begged again, over and over without a second thought if that was what it took. But his nod and choked-out “Yes” were enough. Hakoda repeated the motion, fucking him slow and deep, dropping kisses and nips onto his shoulders in equal measure. 

“Fuck, Zuko.” The sweet, rough, raw whisper against his skin burned into Zuko, lighting him up, scorching the sheets where his hands were fisted into them. No, he had certainly not known what he was asking for. Who could have told him? How could he ever guess that the inescapable stretch, the aching pressure would break his heart, make him whole, leave him pure and filthy and gasping profanities into the bed?

“Please, please, _fuck,_ please,” He didn’t even know what he wanted so badly until Hakoda gave it to him, picking up his pace and losing the gentle fluidity in favor of sharper, staccato thrusts that ground Zuko’s hips into the bed below him. His cock slid against the soft sheet, forced to rut into the mattress until the pleasure made him sob and choke and writhe again. He braced his knees and rolled his hips back to meet Hakoda’s, blindly chasing the pressure, racing towards his own internal precipice.

Of course Hakoda knew. “That good, pet? Going to come for me? Going to come on my cock?”

Zuko barely stifled the shout that clawed its way from his throat as, for the second time that night, he unraveled beneath the chief. Hakoda ground slow and deep inside him as he rode out the aftershocks, then slipped out, hiked up Zuko’s knee, and effortlessly flipped him over. Zuko lay, fucked out and boneless, watching as he shifted back into position and leaned down for another heart-rending soft kiss.

“Are you going to keep going? You didn’t finish.”

“Only if you ask me to, pet.” He smiled softly, stroking a thumb over Zuko’s jaw.

“Please, I want you to come, too.”

“What a sweet thing you are.” He brushed his lips over Zuko’s cheekbone. “Sweet and dirty and so perfect for me.” He pressed back in, nearly effortless this time, and Zuko wondered if it would ever stop breaking his heart, the way his body gave and opened for him. If he would ever recover from the sweet, heady intensity of it, or if he would be left like this, eternally reveling in the cool sweep of Hakoda’s hands down his sides, chasing his lips, basking in the mere idea of getting him off. “Oh, _fuck_ , Zu,” Hakoda came with another whispered oath and it felt like a benediction to Zuko who watched, riveted, as the flush bloomed in his chest and cheeks and his elbows began to tremble where he held himself up.  
“Yeah, I’d say so,” he breathed, and pulled him in for more of those achingly soft kisses. He felt the older man’s weight settle on him like a blanket even as he softened and slipped out. Zuko wrapped an arm around his shoulders and sifted tender fingers through his greying hair. They would be sticky in a minute. And there were definitely wet spots in his bed now. But for the moment, wrapped up in Hakoda and their post-orgasm haze, those problems seemed too far off to belong to him. For now, he had everything.

X

The fire lord rose with the sun. That’s what everyone said. Mostly it was true. Zuko had always vaguely felt the distant glow of its power, but since his visit with the sun warriors he could feel it so acutely that it dragged him out of bed in the mornings unless he made a concerted effort to ignore it. Most days he didn’t hesitate. Most days there wasn’t someone else in his bed, brown skin practically glowing against red sheets, an unfamiliar and welcome sight. Zuko stood and drank in the view, eyes snagging on the softness of Hakoda’s mouth, the slow rise and fall of his chest. He lay sprawled across the middle of a bed that had lately begun to feel rather excessive to Zuko, taking up the space as if it never occurred to him that there was too much for one man to occupy. Until a second ago, it hadn’t been just him. Zuko had fit in there somewhere, though he didn’t know exactly where or how.

“Good night?” Mai’s dry voice from the doorway made him jump. He hurriedly threw a corner of blanket over the chief’s bare hips and spun to face her.

“You’re early,” he accused.

“Just my luck.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t worry, I’ve had my eyeful. We can get dressed out here.”

Zuko pulled pieces at random from his wardrobe. They were all essentially the same shirt and pants, made to be covered by armor or official robes. Shit. His robes. He hadn’t changed last night before his ‘meeting’ and they had ended up crumpled on the floor by his bed. They were going to be so wrinkled. Maybe he could make do without? Or substitute a different set? Mai was already fiddling with the side ties of her favorite loose trousers when he made it out to the parlor. Zuko dropped his own clothes and held her top up as she shrugged into it, then did up the shoulder for her with neat, flat little bows. She put on her own long vest while he stepped into his pants and tied the laces. When she helped him on with his shirt, however, she reached behind him and grabbed a quick, rough handful of his ass, which startled an actual yelp out of him as he danced out of reach.

“Mai!” He hissed angrily. The look on her face was unbearably smug.

“I guess you talked to him, then. Looks like it turned out pretty well.” He groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Almost like…” She drawled, “Almost like I know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t go grabbing your-” he gestured angrily for a moment, “ _bits_ every morning.”

“We both know you weren’t going to tell me. Not unless I already knew.”

“Could have been a bit more gentle, at least.” He submitted to temptation and ran a hand over his now twinging backside. It didn’t help, just made Mai snicker at him. “I’ll tell you if you help me figure out what to do about my robes.” She did, thankfully, thoughtfully selecting a set that, while understated, would look close enough under the usual mantle. When they returned to the parlor, the breakfast table had been set.

“Okay, I helped. Spill it, Zuzu.”

“A few weeks ago, maybe more than-”

“Weeks?! And you haven’t told me? Treason.” She poked him in the chest, right in the center of his scar.

“You only run like half the country. Do you want the rest or not?”

“Continue.” She said primly, as if she hadn’t just been attacking him. The switch reminded him of Ty Lee, which made him smile as he started again. He told her everything. The inconvenient boners, the disastrous sparring matches, the northerners, the first evening, all the subsequent evenings, and at last, the previous night.

“Sounds like fun.” Mai sipped her tea, her eyes leaving his to land somewhere over his shoulder.  
“Lady Mai.” Zuko felt his spine stiffen at the sound of Hakoda’s voice from the doorway.

“Chief Hakoda.” She gave him a rare smile. “Your other boot is under the bed.”

“Thank you.” Zuko didn’t turn to look, only sat in growing horror as she invited the chief to join them, pointedly ignoring Zuko’s glare. He shut his eyes and bit his lip and silently prayed while his wife gleefully got acquainted with the man who had, only hours previously, railed him into the mattress. 

X

“Who would have thought. The hard working ruler of the fire nation - reformist, reconstructionist, an endless well of positive change - is really a spoiled little princeling after all.”

“Are you done?”

“Your favorite use of your bending-”

“Seriously, are you done.”

“Is heating a bath.”

“Because I’m not letting you in until you’re done.”

“I’m done.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes, waiting.

“Princeling.” Yep, there it was.

“I changed my mind, I’m not letting you in, ever. Enjoy your lukewarm bath water, chief.”

Hakoda stepped out of his pants and made his way to the spacious bath.

“No fuck off you’re not allowed.” Zuko reached up and pushed at his hip, warding him off. Hakoda sidestepped and slipped closer.

“Pants are already off, Zu. No turning back.”

“Walk back naked, see if I care.” He waited until Hakoda had one foot in, then swiped at a knee, trying to unbalance him. It didn't work, and Hakoda caught his wrist instead, turning his half hearted attempts at deterrence into a full-on wrestling match.

“Do you really want people wondering why I’m leaving your chambers in the nude?” He attempted a pin, but Zuko was already slippery, and willing to fight now he had nothing to hide.

“You intruded on my bath and I threw you out. Easy.” Zuko hooked an ankle behind Hakoda’s knee, making him wobble. He pressed the advantage, levering the other man’s elbow back until he had to twist and spin to avoid falling. Zuko wasn’t completely sure how he managed it, but the impromptu match ended with Hakoda trapped between his body and the edge of the bath, face pressed to the wall by Zuko’s reaching hand. 

He laughed against the tiles. “After all that, I’m still in your bath, and I’ve got a pretty boy plastered to my back to boot.”

“Fine. You win.” Zuko let go of his head, but remained pressed up against him, thigh to thigh, hip to hip. “Come get your prize.”

X

“Hakoda?” Zuko looked up, resting his chin on his hand so it wouldn’t stab into the chief’s stomach.

“Hm?” They were sprawled on Zuko’s bed, Hakoda on his back, combing his fingers lazily through Zuko’s hair as Zuko lay comfortably between his thighs, head pillowed softly on his belly.

“What happens when you leave?”

“We keep trying to put the world back together. Me on my iceberg. You in your volcano.”

“Mm.”

“I go back to my husband. You go back to your wife. We keep going.”

“Husband?” That was new. Although in the sleepy, quiet peace of night so late it was nearly morning, Zuko was having trouble being particularly bothered by it.

“You didn’t know? I figured they’d have told you.”

“They probably did. But they also never shut up, so sometimes I don’t listen.” 

Hakoda laughed, his abs tightening under Zuko’s hand. “Does it bother you?”

Zuko yawned. “I’m sure it will tomorrow. Tonight I’m too tired.”

“Family and sexuality are more separate for us, if it helps any.”

“What do you mean?” He rested his cheek back on Hakoda’s stomach, turning his face to nuzzle lightly into the soft, loose skin.

“Marriages are partnerships. You find someone you work well with, who helps you learn and grow, and you stick with them. Our marriages make the whole community stronger. Children - a family - are the greatest gifts you can give to your tribe. A new generation to keep us going, care for the aging and disabled, and bring light to our lives. And it’s easier to raise a kid or three in a partnership built on your strengths like that. Its deep love, but not necessarily the way one of your citizens might think of it.”

“So your husband?”

“I love him dearly. He’s my second in command. My best friend in the world.” Zuko could relate to that. It sounded a lot like his marriage to Mai. “Also great in bed. But our sexualities don’t belong to each other. That’s just not what marriage or family means to us.”

“My wife is a lesbian. We’re supposed to produce heirs. It sounds the same, but somehow feels worse.”

“I’m sorry, Zu.”

“Maybe I can think of it as love. As a gift.”

“Instead of a duty?”

“You have no right to know me that well. Not after two months.”

“I could have guessed that about you the day we met.”

“Hakoda?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” 

X

Summer carried on, as did the negotiations. Until, one day, they didn’t, and the last of the blue sails vanished from his port. There had been another feast. Another night. An embrace that may have gone on just a moment too long. Zuko returned to the palace. Mai was already waiting for him at the dinner table when he got to his chambers. She had evidently requested his favorites of everything; noodles, dumplings, tea, the works. Her eyes looked a little sad as he settled in across from her.

“So,” was all she said.

“Yeah.” Zuko unceremoniously stuffed a dumpling in his mouth, not bothering with utensils. His wife snorted delicately and poured the tea. He told himself he wasn’t going to be messed up about it. There had always been a time limit. He’d seen it looming in the distance from the very beginning. No fucking point getting bent out of shape over something he knew was going to happen anyways. He stuffed another dumpling in his mouth and eyed the noodles. Those needed chopsticks at least. Make an effort, Zuko.

Mai ate as fastidiously as ever, letting the silence rest between them. It was actually kind of nice. He didn’t really need to say anything to Mai. She understood him anyway. Which was why it rankled so much when she said, “you’re sad about it.”

“Of course I’m fucking sad about it. When have you ever known me to be capable of keeping my head on straight?”

“Zuko.” She warned, then continued when he looked abashed, “He upped your friend count here to a grand total of three. Now he’s gone and Ty Lee is in the country and it’s just us again. Of course you’re fucking sad about it.” She mimicked him. “Quit being weird about it and eat your noodles.” He did, and they did make him feel a bit better.

“So are you going to tell me about it?” She prompted over dessert, fruit tart poised just below her mouth.

Zuko reached into his sleeve and pulled at the strings behind his elbow. “He gave me this.” The beaded band glittered merrily on the dark wood of the table where he laid it flat between them.

“He wore those to the feast?”

Zuko nodded. “And for fighting. He usually had at least one on.”

She didn’t ask why. Just nodded and slid it gently back toward him. He tucked it away, unable to re-tie it on his own. Mai stood from her place at the table and offered him her hand. From this angle he could see up her sleeve to where her knives usually hid. Nothing but smooth pale skin greeted his eyes. He clasped her hand and let her haul him to his feet and into a surprisingly soft hug.

“Let’s go to bed,” she murmured into his shoulder. He nodded mutely and let her lead him by the hand toward the imposingly empty bed. With the same silent care as in the mornings, they helped each other undress, loosening bows and gathering shifting folds. Exhausted and morose, Zuko poured himself onto the mattress. Mai sat primly on the edge and reached up to undo her buns, letting her hair fall inky black and board straight down her back. He watched as she gathered it all forward over one shoulder into a rough braid. It had been nearly a year since he had seen his wife like this. She spent her nights with Ty Lee now, when Ty Lee wasn’t visiting Azula in her country estate. Eventually she clambered the rest of the way into bed, settling in the way they used to, before Mai would sleep without her knives or Zuko would sleep on his right side. She wrapped him up in her long, slender limbs, one arm pillowing his head, the other thrown around his shoulders, knee draped over his hip. Her breath warmed the back of his neck, settling him into the soft, fuzzy, pre-sleep haze where he was most vulnerable, most open.

“I miss you, Mai.”

“I miss you too, Zuko.”  
“We see each other every day and I still feel-”

“Like I haven’t really seen you in a year,” she finished for him. “Me, too.” A pause, then, “When you told me about him, it was the closest we’d been in a long time.”

“Too long. I’m sorry, Mai.”

“I talked to Ty Lee. I don’t want to be your in-public-arm-attachment.”

He turned over, shifting to stay in her arms, and shimmied down to tuck his head under her chin. “I can try and get separation protocols written.” at least she was with him tonight.

“No, dumbass. I want to be your partner. Your friend and your wife. You deserve better. She agrees with me.”

“Mai…”

“She’s going to live here with me. So I can stay here with you.”

“Mai.”

“What, Zuko.”

“Thank you.” He let a few tears slip down his face into her shirt, then wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her as close as he could. It was a long time before either of them slept, but eventually they did, wrapped up in each other like teens again. The chief’s words floated through his head, just before he drifted off. ‘I go back to my husband. You go back to your wife. We keep going.’ He could do that, he decided, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Twilight Zone by Golden Earring, which is completely unrelated to the fic, but also slaps.  
> The working title was "Blowjobs don't fix a country" *Syndrome voice* and you understand why I couldn't go with that.


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